


Your Presence Still Lingers Here

by imapsychopath_imnotrude



Category: Doctor Who
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:03:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imapsychopath_imnotrude/pseuds/imapsychopath_imnotrude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River's gone and left everything behind...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Presence Still Lingers Here

She was gone. She was gone. And left behind was 2 huge holes in his hearts. The Doctor collapsed onto a chair in the nursery of their daughter Amelia's onboard the TARDIS.

"Ah River!" he sighed and dropped his head into his hands. Every time he closed his eyes her saw visions of her, the library, her death. And how he saved her. Now she was living forever with children of her own. With some other man. Some other, ordinary man. No one quite as eccentric as him. And it pained him. But she was safe and happy. He was left to pick up the pieces he could of his broken hearts. Then their daughter began to cry. The only one who could ever usually stop her was river. She would sing their daughter to sleep like an angel. But not tonight. Not any other night. He would have to do it all alone. Except he would never truly be alone. She would always be there with him. He would always talk like she was there. Because whenever he spoke quickly, or in a foreign language, or about something complicated, she would be the one to understand. And pretending she was there was a least a little comfort. He stood up and walked over to the cot, lifting up Amelia. She wailed and he let a tear roll down his cheek.

"I know Amelia, I know. I'm sorry. Please don't cry." he said. He kissed her forehead gently and rocked her, walking round the room. He turned on the light

that projected stars on the wall and looked at them. He pointed his sonic at the device and one new star appeared.

"Amelia it's ok. Everything will be fine." he whispered. She seemed to settle slowly, until the crying ceased altogether.

"Mummy's gone now. She's a star in the sky. The brightest star you see every night? That's mummy. And she will watch over you forever. That's mummy now Amelia." he pointed to the new star on the wall. "She will be up there, twinkling away, watching our adventures, then watching you go and have your own. Mummy's gone now. But she still loves you very, very much." he kissed her forehead again, letting more tears roll. Because that's how it was. River was gone. And there was nothing he could do. Nothing except know that she still loved him and their daughter and that they both loved River back. Amelia was silent and he put her back down gently, leaving the projection on and walking out to the control room. He growled in frustration.

"Why River? Just because it wasn't over for me then. But it is Now. I won't ever see you again. I saw you, today with that look in your eye. That look that said 'Who the hell are you?" you no longer knew who I was. And it hurt me so much. That must have been how you always felt. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Why couldn't you have let me take the fall in the Library? I could've regenerated or done something. But you had to play the hero Melody Pond!" he stopped moving round the console and leaned against it. "River I loved you. Still love you. And you slipped between my fingers."

He sighed and sniffed, trying to keep what little composure he had. She was gone and he had to face facts. He wouldn't ever see her again. Except in his dreams. He always dreamt of her. He looked across the console at where River used to like standing.

"What do you think dear?" he asked aloud. "Where should we take our daughter this time?

**Author's Note:**

> based on a timebaby gifset on tumblr: http://timetravelandarchaeology.tumblr.com/post/26613309029  
> Title from My Immortal by Evanescence


End file.
